


Turning Heads

by troubledangelinthetimevortex



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Paris (City), Slow Burn, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubledangelinthetimevortex/pseuds/troubledangelinthetimevortex
Summary: What if Phryne and Jack met in Paris after the war?How would their dynamic change upon her return to Melbourne nearly fifteen years later?





	1. Chapter 1

The young Lieutenant and nurse spent the day aimlessly wondering Paris as they had most days this past month. As the brilliant oranges and yellows overtook the sky they found a quaint cafe. 

"I'm to head to Calais in two days time to return to Melbourne." 

"They leave you stranded for months and now give so little warming! It's absurd." His feisty companion with long raven black hair protests. 

"It is the way of the Army." 

"So you'll be returning?" Her normal energy absent. 

"There isn't another option. Will you return?" He dares not pray that she may return too, that they may pass on the streets. 

"I think not. Apparently I'm a lady now that some poor distant cousin was killed in the trenches. I suppose I should make my way up to London." 

"To London," the officer toasted. 

"To Melbourne," she replied. 

"Until then," Phryne kisses his cheek as the train horn blares. “Au revoir Lieutenant Robinson." 

She turns but halfway before he grasps her slender waist, wantonly sighing "Phryne."

"Yes Jack?" Doe eyed as he brings them flush, their lips separated as if by an invisible veil.

“Dans une autre vie."


	2. Prologue

It's been years since the war. For the first few years back Rosie protested that everything was fine and that she still loved him things were different. He had seen the worst of men on both sides. He had see the destruction of that was once beautiful green countryside. He thought of his lost brothers. He spit at being called a hero, he did is duty, was injured and miraculously made his way home unlike so many of his brothers-in-arms. He remembers the supple feel of Phryne's hands as she changed his bandages. He tired to not think of her often, but every blue moon she crept into his thoughts and consumed him. 

The newly titled spitfire embraced her new life of luxury, attending the most lavish galas and modern parties, wearing the latest fashions, and enjoying the company of the most interesting men. The memories of blood, cries, and death repressed. So few people wished to talk of the war, Phryne saw no reason to bring it up. Though on the occasional lonely night her memories brought her back to Paris and the captivating young Lieutenant Robinson. As her ship neared Melbourne she couldn’t help but wonder if Jack ever thought of her.


	3. Cocaine Blues Part 1

Ever inquisitive Phryne snuck past the young innocent constable left alone to guard the stairs and made her way into the bathroom where John has met his demise just hours ago. After a brief minute of snooping there came a knock at the door.

“You must be the-Jack?” Her flirtatious evasion turned to amazement at seeing an old friend. 

His mouth nearly dropped, this was not the young woman he’d left in Paris, no here before him a lady of the world and who knew her mind. “Nurse Fisher?”

“Oh come now surly we’re friends enough to call each other by our Christian names, Jack” She sung. 

He’d been tempted at war. The young nurse, lost in the chaos, just trying her best to cope, with her signature flair. While things were not well with Rosie he was still a married man. 

“I am here on business Miss Fisher. May I ask how you came to be at the scene of a crime?”

“Are you a detective now, Lieutenant? How fascinating!”

“Miss Fisher do be serious.”

“Please, I’ve never been serious a day in my life.”

He fights to hold back a smile. Just as rambunctious as the young woman, barely more than a child really he’d known at war, but they’d all been children then. “I see you haven’t changed, but I do need you to answer my questions.”

With a small pout the Lady ceased being coy, “The deceased was a family friend. Mr and Mrs Andrews had invited Aunt Prudence and myself for luncheon to welcome me back to Melbourne.”

“How well did you know Mr Andrews?”

“I never had the pleasure but on all accounts he was incredibly charming.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dans une autre vie= in another life
> 
> The transition is weird but it reminded me of _À bout de souffle_


End file.
